


Mutatis mutandis

by shinodabear



Category: Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinodabear/pseuds/shinodabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post-film]  Charles reflects on facing the remainder of his life, balding, in a wheelchair and comes to a decision on how to approach the cards he's been dealt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutatis mutandis

He was barely thirty and already balding. If Charles wasn't a geneticist, he'd think that he had early onset alopecia just to spite himself. (That still might be the case: His own mutation turning against him, encouraging his neuropathways to send the signal to his scalp to kill off its follicles.) If Raven could see him now, she'd smile. In a flippant tone she'd tell him to put on a toupee, "Who would know the difference?" (Charles would, that's who.) 

He was barely thirty, balding, and would never walk again. The statistical probability of finding a child with a genetic mutation for healing was rare to the point of incalculable. The mutations presented themselves in so many various ways that Charles knew the number of mutations were infinite, forever expanding. 

He could not rely on mutations and chance to heal him. Science as a whole could not help. For while, one day, there might be advancements large enough to help him walk again, there was nothing science could do for an Icarus with his wings melted, for a man with his ego broken. 

He'd considered being a professor at a renowned university, publishing articles in scientific journals, but then he thought about the way his name in print would never measure up to his person. His colleagues would build up an image of him, from his published works, his letters, his voice on the telephone, and then they'd meet him. He would no doubt be significantly shorter than they'd imagined him. 

When he'd thought about the outside world he realized just how much he no longer fit in, just how much the world ignored him. Despite the growing whispers for reform, the shops and buildings in the city, public transport, all were closed to him. Navigating the crowded streets would still prove a task. Then there were the children, of course, the children who would point, laugh, and throw rocks. It would be for the best that he stay at home – his home modified and adapted to his needs. 

Money solved a lot of problems. Erik might not have appreciated the grandeur, but it allowed Charles to survive. It gave him a home. More importantly, it gave his students a home – a place where they could be accepted, where they could learn and grow without fear, where they could learn about themselves and their mutations in a safe, nurturing environment. There weren't many of them just yet but Charles had a plan, a grand plan, for a school for the gifted. For that is what they were, those gifted, beautiful children. He wanted nothing more than to give them what they deserved. It was the least he could do for them. 

But what would he do for himself?

_Purchase a toupee?_ he answered himself, thought dripping with sarcasm. There was no one in the hallway to stare as he laughed. Self-deprecation was an art-form, one of many he had come to master in the recent months, and art was very important for a school of gifted youngsters. One should always know something intimately in oneself in order to recognize it in others. He could no longer hide his differences from the human population from the world. His powers were invisible, it was true, but his body would forever be marked by otherness. 

Many mutants' bodies were marked outright, but his condition was no genetic mutation. It was nerve damage, damage which yielded no evolutionary advantage. For mutants, all necessary changes had been made upon birth; it was marked in their DNA. There was nothing necessary about this change. But both were irreversible. 

The thought made him pause. 

He preached acceptance of all mutant kind, acceptance, freedom, and integration with the greater community. What difference was his cause from those of the disabled? The fight for social and civil equalities was going on all around them, the mutant cause but one of many. It was the most important to him, of course, but he could not be blind to the other struggles of his fellow countrymen. Many of his own students would be struggling with similar issues. To wallow in self-pity over one permanent bodily change would go against his principles as founder of this Institute. _Perhaps_ , he thought as he scratched his head, _two changes_. His hand came away with a few stray strands of hair. He smiled to himself and sat a little straighter in his chair. 

The next morning, he was entirely bald. When people inquired, he raised them a small smile and said, "I took matters into my own hands. I think it's a rather striking look, don't you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the Xavier Institute's motto, which translates as "by changing those things which need to be changed" or, alternatively, "the necessary changes having been made" [[x](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutatis_mutandis)]


End file.
